Grayscale
by sinking815
Summary: In District 12, it's hard to see under all the dust and haze. And if you do see past the gloon, it's a place of monochrome misery and dull routine. But Gale learns there can be beauty in those shades of gray... A/U. Set THG.


_Grayscale  
__sinking815  
__April 24__th__ 2013_

_A/N: Started as a one-shot inspired by a reviewer request and quickly spiraling into something much longer than that. Let's face it, I just can't help dallying in the universe of Katniss and Gale "what if…" As, always, reviews are greatly appreciated._

* * *

_**-iron**_

He had meant it to be a joke. Though the wary gaze she levels him with now makes him think that maybe his tone was a little too harsh. He almost feels bad. Except for the part of him that thinks she shouldn't be out here wandering into other people's business.

"I was just looking," she says, her voice surer and stronger than he expected. "Mine never catch anything."

Gale steps past her to examine the rabbit hanging from his snare, noticing as he does so how small she really is. How old is she anyway, ten? he thinks. Though she doesn't back down. Her eyes train on him with a look reflective of her confident voice, and he's momentarily intrigued. Even more so when he sees the quiver slung across her back and the bow in her right hand.

She narrows her eyes at him, clearly aware of his sudden interest in her weapon. Gray locks on gray and for a moment, Gale thinks she might actually fight him.

So he smiles his most disarming smile, and though it doesn't earn him the free pass he usually gets from girls, he does see the iron in her eyes soften ever so slightly.

"What's your name?"

_**-ash**_

As they creep through the forest, he notices that she's even quieter than usual. In fact, they've not spoken a word since they met up at their overlook. He knows it shouldn't bother him. He understands.

Today marks one year since the death of their fathers. She has every right in the world to be silent.

But it does bother him. And he feels guilty that the main reason he feels the harsh breath of the dragon twisting in his chest is because he _wants_ her to speak. To say something so he might know what she's thinking. So he might know what to say in return. He certainly can feel the pain radiating from her silence, and somehow, he thinks knowing that she's toughing through her grief alone only makes him want to help her more.

Not that he doesn't miss his own father. God, there's not a day that goes by when Gale doesn't stop at least once to wish for his presence. But if wishes are left unanswered in District 12, they are little more than a waste of breath in the Seam. He all but gave up on wishes before he even properly learned what a wish was.

Katniss' arrow zings sharply through the air, and he jumps out of his skin, shocked back into reality. Thankfully, she doesn't notice. She just wends her way to the fallen squirrel, retrieves her arrow, and walks back.

"Got something at least," she says, handing him the squirrel so he can stash it in his bag.

As Gale accepts the game, he manages to catch her eyes in the briefest of moments and instantly wishes he hadn't.

The sheen of tears across her eyes cannot seem to lighten their dull gray. He's afraid of that look. Has never seen such pain in them before. She's always been tough as nails and he's thankful for that. Most girls her age cry at the slightest provocation. But not Catnip. He likes that about her.

"Catnip?" he asks. She turns to him and now that was really not a good move, because she fixes him with the full weight of that ashen sorrow. His throat tightens and he thinks he might as well be staring into his own reflection.

He can't think of what to say, so he does something that at once feels totally unlike him and completely right. Without hesitation, she walks into his outstretched arms, her stifled sniffles muted against his chest. He almost doesn't notice his own tears sliding down his cheeks.

_**-stone**_

She never cries in front of him again.

_**-steel**_

She stops mid-sentence, turning towards the rustling that comes to his ears a fraction of a second later. He searches the green gloom of the forest and despite the welcome warmer air, he curses the burgeoning canopy that casts long shadows effectively concealing prey when spring thickens. He's much quicker to give up than she does. Gale's always been the more impatient one. He leaves his traps to do the waiting for him.

But not Katniss.

She'll stalk an animal to the edge of the woods and back, waiting for the precise moment when she can loose an arrow for that single fatal flight. Ironically, Gale would follow her all day long just to watch her in action.

She must see something he can't. Her hand reaches back slowly, ever so slowly, to her quiver and her fingers close over the tail of one of her hand-crafted arrows. In one graceful motion, she notches her bow and leans back against the tree for support and seems to freeze. He can't even see the rise and fall of her chest.

Her eyes watch some point on the forest floor and he follows her gaze to where he thinks she's staring. One minute passes. Then two, and he starts to think that maybe she's crazy or even more paranoid than him. He's known her for a little over two years, but how much does he really know about Katniss Everdeen?

Then, the tail flicks. A flash of white in the forest gloom and almost as if it was a ghost shimmering into existence, the outline of the buck sharpens into focus. The animal is looking away from them, deeper into the forest, and Gale thinks she might not get the shot she wants.

He looks back to tell her to just shoot already, because doesn't she know a deer is worth food enough for two families for a week!

But he can't say a word when he sees the look of pure determination on her face. Her eyes harden as she focuses, mentally calculating and re-calculating the angle and the flight and the tension. Her lips purse slightly as she blows out one steadying breath after another until she finds the right feel for the release.

He risks a glance back to the deer, his nerves on high alert. The buck takes one step away from them, still intently looking at something off in the distance, and it takes everything in Gale not to scream at her to shoot…

Then, the buck looks back and Gale hears the soft whoosh of her exhalation just before the zip and twang of her bow as she unleashes her deadly weapon. The arrow buries itself deep in its eye and the buck's head snaps back before its knees buckle, its massive weight collapsing to the ground.

Gale's down and out of the tree and at its side only moments later, his knife slicing quick and clean across the beast's throat just in case the arrow wasn't enough. He pulls the shaft from the animal's eye, wiping the bloodied tip in the dirt.

When he hears her approach him, he turns to hand her the arrow and finds himself staring into those steely eyes.

Then the steel melts, and for the first time, Gale thinks he actually sees her really smile.

_**-slate**_

After that, he starts to live for those smiles and will do anything and everything to get another one.

At first, he tries to be subtle. He credits her openly in the Hob. Insists that she's an infallible shot. Even starts skinning her rabbits for her. She just rolls her eyes and tells him that he's going to ruin her recent streak of good luck. While he doesn't earn a smile, he does learn that Catnip harbors a superstitious side.

Then, he moves on to presents. Nothing too showy or obvious, no, Katniss would kill him if he ever spent money on her. Just little things to see if she'd notice. One morning he gets up a little earlier and spends a half hour sharpening her arrows. She mumbles thanks and hands him an extra rabbit later when they divide the spoils. The spring breaks into full gear and he stumbles across a patch of her favorite purple flowers during his check of the snare line. He presents them to her, tied together was some extra twin, and he thinks he's getting closer because her eyes shine with amusement, though she doesn't smile.

It's when he stops trying that he gets rewarded.

In fact, he almost jumps clear out of his skin when the arrow lodges into the ground dangerously close to his feet. He glares at her legs dangling out of the tree over their rock, and wants to ask what the hell she was thinking?

And just like that, she smiles before breaking out into laughter and jumping down next to him.

"You should have seen your face!"

He blinks hard against her gaze, so directly on him and so up close, mesmerized by the deep slate color dancing in her eyes.

"Yeah, well it's not every day your hunting partner tries to kill you," he scowls, bending to retrieve her arrow.

She huffs something noncommittal and stands there expectantly. That's when he notices the package tied just behind the arrowhead.

"Strangest looking squirrel I've ever seen," he teases, holding the bundle out to her.

She shakes her head, and her smile widens.

"Open it."

He hesitates, just so he can drink in her happiness, fresh and untainted, for a moment longer. She bounces slightly with apprehension, and he can see how badly she wants him to do it. He keeps his eyes on her as he unwraps.

A sugar cookie with his favorite orange frosting lies in his hand, and for one second, Gale understands the aggravation she feels whenever he threatened to spend on her. He can't stop himself from calculating the cost of the treat, but he also can't help the excitement he feels over her gift.

"Katniss…" he starts to say, not sure if thank you or why are the next words to fall out of his mouth.

"Happy birthday Gale," she says, cutting him off. She collects her arrow from him and turns before he can voice either one, then calls over her shoulder in her best annoyed voice, "Come on, we're already behind."

But when he hurriedly catches up to her and breaks off a piece of cookie, her smile betrays her.

_**-granite**_

They usually keep their respective distances from each other at school. He told her once that he thought it would make it deniability easier if one of them were ever caught. She didn't disagree.

But that promise doesn't even cross his mind when he steps down the dusty stairs at the front of the school, Rory gibbering on about his day next to him, and Gale sees three boys from his class pressing her back into the corner. The look on their faces is plain as day, he can see the malicious lust in their eyes, the eager flex of their hands for innocent skin.

He tells Rory to hurry home and then stalks away, his vision all red and harsh at the edges.

She's smart though, Gale thinks bitterly, as his fists clench on their own accord. Her chin is up, eyes alert and hardened, no sign of fear in her assured stance. Smart enough not to run and make a chase for the pack of dogs. Some part of his mind tells him that he taught her that – get your back covered and keep ready – but it's not comforting in the slightest.

"Hawthorne," one of them notices, and smiles a lazy predatory smile as if recognizing another wanting in on the fun. "Care to share?"

Gale keeps on coming, his fist connecting solidly with the boy's jaw. A loud crunch echoes across the lawn and he doesn't have time to sort out if his knuckles or the boy's face was responsible for the noise. The two others descend on him like the ravenous wolves they are.

He manages to escape with a black eye and a split lip.

Hazelle is furious with him, asks him what kind of example he meant to be for his little brother. Gale can't answer, his mind still filled with murderous thoughts and a nagging panic over what happened not an hour before. He can still see her granite resolve and grit in his mind's eye, but underneath that fierceness he sees the fear she was trying to hide as well.

"But they were going to fight Katniss!" Rory exclaims.

Hazelle's mouth gapes and she looks from her younger son to her oldest. He knows she can see in his scowl that fighting wasn't really what they were after. Though she doesn't absolve him of his actions, she does stop her admonishment.

Katniss stops by later that evening, and asks if she can see him.

Gale thinks that she might say thank you, or maybe hug him, and while he'd welcome that exchange out in the woods, he doesn't think he's ready for his family to see how much today has affected him.

Instead, she holds out a small jar, presses it into his hands, and tells him it'll help with the swelling and pain.

"I can't pay you," he says, the habit of now owing her all too loud and insistent in his mind.

She looks up at him with the most sincere and soft expression.

"You already did."

_**-charcoal**_

He thought he had earned her trust by now. Almost three years of feeding their families, evading Peacekeepers, ranting about the unfairness of it all… Okay so the last one was mainly him. Gale thought that he was the one person in District 12 – aside from Prim – who knew and understood Katniss Everdeen inside and out. He's seen her cry and laugh and bleed and shiver. He's heard her yell and curse and

But he's never heard her sing.

Until now, when they're walking back, his belt full of squirrels, her pack full of strawberries and countless plants, a full stomach only a few more hours away, and she starts to sing. At first, her voice is soft, phrases almost whispered and cut off, disjointed but peacefully so. He doesn't say anything, afraid that any comment from him might scare this new Katniss away. And he doesn't want that.

She sings louder and her voice sounds pure and clear and like it belongs to these woods, in this moment. Gale feels like this part of her might belong to him. He listens to the words, the gentle lilt and sway of the melody, and it's refreshing and melancholy. He thinks he recognizes the lullaby, as if recalling some distant memory. When she finishes, her eyes burn with a kind of nostalgia and he doesn't have to ask if she's thinking of her father. No, this side of Katniss doesn't really belong to him.

Not for the first time – and he suspects, not for the last – he doesn't know what to say.

"Gale?" she says, stopping after a few quiet moments have passed.

He turns, but doesn't speak. He's afraid his voice might break with the heavy emotion in his throat. She holds out her hand, and he takes it willingly.

"I want to show you something."

_**-shadow**_

She's fifteen when something changes. One minute she's floating in the water, her face turned to the blue sky, her legs slowly propelling her along. The next, she's toweling off, and he can't seem to not stare at the way the water drips over curves and swells, down those long, long legs…

He submerges himself when he notices her noticing him staring. The bubbles rise and pop as he blows his breath out underwater, staying under even when his lungs start to burn and scald with the need for oxygen. Good, he thinks, anything to get his head back where it belongs.

Eventually though, he does have to breathe.

When his head breaks the surface, he tries not to look at her just in case she's still wondering over the tense moment they shared. Well, tense on his part. He's not sure if Katniss was able to understand the more than friendly thoughts tormenting him, let alone read them. Gale liked to consider himself pretty suave around the ladies, but Catnip was already in too deep. Under his skin in a way that he loved most of the time – when they shared one mind in the midst of a hunt, the glances that spoke volumes when words were too dangerous – but also left him vulnerable and open.

He really hoped she couldn't see that he was wondering if those curves would fit in his palms, or how those legs would feel wrapped around his waist, or how his name would sound all breathy against his ear…

No, stop, Gale thinks harshly as he sits close, but not too close, shaking his head as if the action would clear his rogue mind of such rampant thoughts. Inadvertently, he splatters her with wayward drops from his hair and she shoves his shoulder in protest. She's not mad though because she gives him one of his smiles, the kind that radiates warmth and makes him smile too even when he's in the worst mood. Or at least it used to. Now, he just feels frozen, like a deer staring down the shaft of her arrow, and his heart races, his palms sweat, and his mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

"What?" she asks.

"Umm, uhhh," he stammers.

Her smile falters and doubt flickers in her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as he chokes and splutters, and for a moment, he thinks it's just worry that looks back at him. Then she squints a little, the way she does when she's searching him for what's really going on, and he swallows hard, hoping she can't see.

Whatever she sees, it's something. Her breath catches a little, her eyes widening and going dark with something he can't name before she glances away, her lower lip white beneath her teeth. He might not know what to call that shadow that passes across her gray eyes, but his body recognizes it. Suddenly his skin feels hot, his mind fogs, and the distinct thrum of desire pulses its way through his veins.

And he's gotta move.

He can't even hear her call his name as the pounding of blood in his ears gives way to the cool dull quiet beneath the water.

He walks home with soaking clothes.

_**-twilight**_

"Have you kissed anyone?"

The question is so utterly not what he was expecting that Gale all but gives himself whiplash when he turns his head towards her. She doesn't look back at him, her eyes roaming among the ever brightening stars.

This is not the kind of conversation Katniss usually indulges, so he treads warily.

"Why would you ask that?"

"The girls at school talk about it," she says, her eyes still fixed skyward. Her tone is breezy, like she just recited a common fact, nothing more, nothing less. But Gale knows that Katniss never asks questions she doesn't want answers to.

"Kissing? Or me?"

"Both."

He frowns. That's what he was afraid of.

"Why do you care?"

"Gale…" He's evading, and he knows she knows it.

He props himself on his elbow, twisting to face her, but still she keeps her eyes on the stars. He studies her, trying to discern her reasons and realizing too late that he's stopped caring why she's asking and started wondering what her lips would feel like against his. It's not the first time he's thought about this.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He blinks back into focus, and her eyes twinkle at him, their dark depths reflecting the stars above. He thinks she's beautiful…

"I think you're…" He swallows awkwardly on the word.

She tilts her head at him, and he's got just seconds left to recover and bury this before she thinks to ask him again.

"…sick. Are you sick?" He reaches over to feel her forehead, and she slaps his hand away, giggling at his teasing and goofy grin. "Seriously, Catnip, I thought I was losing you there…" He mockingly places his hand over his heart. He pretends he doesn't feel its erratic thumping.

"I'm sorry," she laughs, shaking her head as if she too didn't know what possessed her to voice such inane questions. Her eyes go back to the stars, the corners of her mouth ever so slightly framed with the ghost of her smile.

After a moment, Gale reclines and knows that they're okay again, navigated safely away from that dangerous territory. He blows out a sigh of relief.

"I won't ask again," she adds.

He knows it was meant to put him at ease. Oddly enough, Gale feels a faint twinge of disappointment at her words.

_**-fog**_

He can hear his mother moving quietly in the kitchen when he wakes. A new fire flickers in the hearth, its infant flames begging for attention. He hesitates for the briefest of moments before bracing against the cold of the early morning house and pushing the blankets off. Even with three extra people in the cramped living space, the air still bites viciously against his skin.

Carefully, he picks his way over his siblings towards the fireplace. All the kids camped out in the small sitting room while his mother and Katniss' mother took the two beds. Sure, it wasn't the most suitable of arrangements, but they had been doing these gatherings every holiday for the past four years since the mining accident. Besides, the Everdeens were practically family.

The log pile shifts despite his best attempt to remove one log from the top and he cringes as the wood settles rather loudly. Dead to the world, the younger children barely stir, but Katniss rolls over. Gale lets out his breath when she doesn't wake, and gently adds the timber to the fire. It takes a few more logs and infinite patience to get the flames crackling with a more efficient heat. Satisfied with the growing fire, he wipes his hands on his pants and turns to survey the room.

Katniss watches him with a sleepy expression.

"Morning," she whispers, thick and raspy. He hopes she thinks it's the residual chill that makes him involuntarily shiver and not how the hazy fog of morning lingers over her features, hangs teasingly in her voice.

"Morning," he whispers back.

She echoes his shiver, drawing the blankets up to her chin.

"Are you cold?"

"I'll get up in a second," she says. "Just not quite ready yet."

"No, take your time," he says. "Here…"

Gale stands and picks his way back across the room. Sometime in the night, Rory and Vick huddled beneath the same blankets, so Gale gently extracts the free one he had been using. He folds it twice as he retraces his steps, kneeling and tucking it around Katniss.

She hums her appreciation and closes her eyes, relishing the extra warmth.

"Better?"

"Thank you," she says, the last few minutes of sleep making her gray eyes swirl, all glassy and mist.

Before Gale turns away, he thinks how nice it would be to see that color every morning.

_**-storm**_

"You scared me," she says. "I waited at our spot… For a while… But you never came."

He tries to apologize, but his tongue feels heavy, his head thick. Her face swims in and out of focus, though he tries to anchor himself in those turbulent eyes.

"Gale?"

He hears the worry in her voice, and he hates himself for being the cause of it.

But the fever roils through him, threatening to pull him back under. The moan is out before he can think to stop it. His muscles ache with every chill that shakes him from head to toe, he just wants some relief.

Something cold is placed across his forehead, and he sighs audibly as the water drips cool paths over his burning skin. He wants to thank her, but the voice that sounds like it might be a scratchy version of his, mumbles words incoherently. Even he can't understand what he means to say.

"Shhhh," she says.

He feels her fingers tracing lightly over his cheek. His eyelids flutter open and he's caught in the stormy swirls of her eyes. She smiles at him, or tries to give him a true Catnip smile. Even in his fever-induced haze, he can see her lower lip tremble and wishes he had the strength to tell her he'll be okay.

Blindly, he searches for her hand, and she meets him halfway, locking her small fingers in his. He gives them a gentle squeeze, the only way he can think to offer her any comfort.

It works. She smiles a little wider, leans close, and whispers, "Thanks, Gale."

As he drifts off, he thinks she presses a kiss to his cheek. And if she did, he can't help but think that little bit of heaven was worth this hellish flu.

_**-dusk**_

Eighteen.

In some ways, he's looked forward to this day. His last Reaping. His last chance to be eligible for a sadistic show for Capitol entertainment. Somehow, he manages to escape the clutching nails of one Effie Trinket for the last time. Even with his forty-two slips.

He manages to survive.

Only to probably die in the mines tomorrow, he thinks bitterly.

Across the table, he knows Katniss feels his silent brooding. That while his family and hers are trying to celebrate another dinner intact, they both feel the slice of the double edged sword all too well. He's never had to tell her that the day when he would have to don a mining suit and plummet hundreds of feet beneath the district to earn not much more than a day's ration and coal lungs made him wake in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat and scared of the dark. She knows because she wakes from those same dreams too.

After the berries they gathered that morning are long gone and Posy's fallen asleep by the dwindling fire, the Everdeens rise to excuse themselves. Everyone still awake crowds around to say their goodbyes. Katniss leaves him for last. She hugs him fiercely, and he closes his eyes, wishing he could just bury himself away in her arms and not face tomorrow. All too soon, the door is closing quietly behind her.

Morning comes anyway, mocking the little sleep he was able to find in the night. His mother sees him off with some Seam bread and cheese tucked away in a handkerchief until he can trade for a lunch tin. She wants to wake Rory, Vick, and Posy, but he says no. He doesn't think he could take their worries and fears when he hasn't mastered his own.

He walks like he's in a bubble. Other miners on their morning trek are laughing and he envies them momentarily at their ability to stave off the misery. He wonders how they can laugh in the face of such real danger. Death is never far when you're already buried in the earth.

Bristol catches up to him at some point. Gale thinks he's a good guy, and feels almost flattered when the older man makes a strong case to add Gale to his crew. The pitman looks Gale up and down once and asks if he can handle the newer rock. Not really knowing, Gale says he can. And just like that, Gale is a member of Crew 23.

Bristol claps him on the shoulder and is promising to introduce him to the other guys when Gale hears her voice yell over the roar of the elevators.

"Gale, wait!"

She skids to a halt, some gravel spraying his shins, and he catches her arms, steadying her as she doubles over, breathing hard.

"Catnip?" he asks.

"I know the answer," she says. Breathing a little easier, she straightens up. Her dark hair is free from its usual braid and he reaches out to touch one wavy strand.

"What answer?" he asks, confused.

"What keeps people going when they're down in the mines."

Then Katniss pulls his face to hers and kisses him. A real kiss that makes his head spin and his breath catch. When she wraps her arms around his neck and he finds her rhythm, twisting his fingers further into her hair and kissing her back with everything he has, he thinks he hears some catcalls and whistles and he thinks he doesn't really care. She pulls back and his eyes can't seem to leave her beautifully swollen lips, or seem to understand what just happened.

"Come back up to me," she whispers.

She looks up at him with a dusky haunted look and he can see where the fear he felt before has gone. She's taken it from him, made him see that she has a reason to be afraid too, and that she needs him to come back to her so she doesn't have to be.

Gale kisses her once more, a long slow kiss that promises her he'll do whatever she asks.

The whistle blows signaling the start of the shift and he holds her face between his hands, memorizing every last detail. Eventually, he has to go.

When he boards the elevator, the men around him tease him mercilessly.

"Something to look forward too, eh?" Bristol elbows him, a knowing smile on his old grizzled face.

Gale smiles back.

"Absolutely, sir."

_**-silver**_

He's dreamt about this for so long that now it seems almost unreal in its realness. That doesn't make sense at all, he thinks. His heart in his throat, her skin against his, the rush of heat between them. It makes perfect sense and yet, he can't believe this is happening.

But it is happening.

The blood pulses in his ears, and he wonders if she can feel his heart hammering away in his ribcage, they're so close.

Gale's never had stage fright when it came to girls and sex. But Katniss was never just _some girl_. He thinks that's why he never asked her to the slag heap, never tried to taint her innocence with his own desires.

And now she's looking at him like there's nothing but him, and them, and this moment.

Then she touches her palm to his chest. He swallows hard against the spike of adrenaline that makes the _thud, thud, thud_ of his heart beat ring even louder in his ears, and he knows she can feel it because she smiles up at him. As she places his hand over her own heart, the beautiful gray shines with something extra. It mesmerizes him, makes his heart sing.

_I trust you, _the silver says. _Show me._

With no words, she tells him exactly what he needs. Gale leans in and kisses her until spots dance behind his closed lids, and tells her in his own silent way, that what he needs… is her.

_**-sterling**_

He wonders if she remembers that day as well as he does. Almost six years ago, when they sat overlooking the valley, sharing a stabbed loaf of bread and trying not to think about his forty-two slips or her twenty. When he asked her to run and she said something about never having kids.

He wonders what she'd do if he said, "I told you so."

At the thought, Gale huffs to himself, thinking of the petulant glare she'd throw his way and seeing the half-hearted fist aimed for his shoulder. She turns under his arm and looks at him with a slightly suspicious look.

"What?" she asks.

He wants to tell her, badly. Just to see if he can get that little rise out of her. But he doesn't.

A little girl, the spitting image of his wife, darts past them, her dark hair streaming out behind her, her little hands clasping together when she finally catches up to her prey.

"Mommy, Daddy!" she shrieks, her eyes aglow with absolute delight. "Look what I caught."

She unfolds her hands slowly, the twinkling of the firefly just visible between the gaps in her tiny fingers.

"Wow!" Katniss exclaims, her own eyes shining with pride and adoration. "That's the sixth one you've caught tonight!"

His daughter beams at them, and then her smile fades and she takes on a suddenly serious look. Gale swallows. She looks just like a little girl he met in these woods almost twelve years ago.

"But we always let them go," she says, gently unfolding her hands. The firefly flicks its wings once, twice, and then rises into the dusk. It hovers momentarily and glows its neon yellow before fading away and disappearing into the night.

"That's right," Katniss says. "They're not ours to keep."

"How do we know when they are?"

At this, he feels Katniss shift away from him, until she's looking right in his eyes. Gale swallows, at the love and adoration he sees, the promises for tomorrow, and the happiness of yesterday.

"When they always come back to you," Katniss says.

_~Fin_


End file.
